


In Her Own Image

by Eliza



Category: GetBackers
Genre: Community: springkink, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-13
Updated: 2007-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:40:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliza/pseuds/Eliza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Himiko learns how to break things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Her Own Image

**Author's Note:**

> For the SpringKink prompt - "Clayman shapes Himiko"

"There. Delivery made." Himiko dusts off her hands after tying the knots in the rope wrapped around Ban and his partner. The fine clay dust seems to be everywhere.

"How long should they be out?" her employer asks.

"Hard to tell with these two." She looks down at the man she once considered a brother. "A regular person would be under for a couple of hours. I think one hour is a safe guess."

"That should be enough time," Clayman says, her voice softer when she's not bothering to hide her identity.

Her hands are always soft. Himiko found that out when the clay mask for the unfortunate guard was being made in her image, Clayman working as much by touch as by sight. "To make it perfect," she'd said.

With the job she did on Ban and Ginji with only a photo to work from, Himiko wonders how necessary it was. But she can't say she minds.

Now the touch is back, turning her chin, her body following automatically while Clayman wipes her face with a warm cloth. She closes her eyes, reasonable as the cloth is moved around them, over her lids. That she doesn't open them again is what doesn't bear close examination.

"Did I get it all?"

"Hm?"

"Taste is the best way to tell." Warmth and wet again brush Himiko's cheek, her jaw. "The best way to make sure all the masks are off."

Himiko opens her eyes now, Clayman's breath still brushing her skin. A small movement, barely more than a twitch, mingles their breath. Clayman's hands are back on her face, her neck, her jaw. Himiko feels the desire there, to shape what is under them. But they don't. And the certainty that they won't leaves Himiko both relieved and disappointed.

It also give Himiko the courage to try some reshaping of her own. She shifts, just enough so that the mingled breath becomes mingled taste. Clayman's fingers skim over the newly arranged flesh, a soft hum making her seem pleased with the results. She guides Himiko into making other changes--a different angle to the tilt of her head, a more relaxed way of holding her mouth, closing her eyes.

Some more drastic changes need to be made, Himiko can feel it. Her body doesn't sit right, there is something in the way. She reaches out to Clayman, running her hands over hip and back built broader than her own, but still distinctly female. She feels the give under her touch, the willingness to be shaped, although Himiko suspects that no matter how the surface changes, the true Clayman will always remain underneath. That willingness brings them close enough to allow Himiko to feel Clayman's shape with more than her hands.

And again something seems in the way.

Clayman's mouth moves from Himiko's lips to the skin in front of her ear. "Do you taste it?" she whispers. "Something bitter and chalky."

"Not you," Himiko says.

"No?" Clayman says, smiling against Himiko's hair as her hands move in random patterns over Himiko's back. "I'm relieved you are so certain."

Himiko glances over at Ban. No, this isn't the same feeling. But then it's been a long while since she's let herself feel much of anything. She's taken her feelings and hidden most of them, tucked them away behind masks of professionalism. And vengeance. But now she's getting to know what it takes to makes masks crumble.

"Squeeze," she whispers in Clayman's ear and Clayman wraps both arms around Himiko, holding her tight enough to stop breath, just long enough for her to get a little light-headed. Or maybe that's Clayman's perfume.

"Are you going to need some more dust removed?"

Himiko gasps at the first touch on her skin; Clayman slides her warm hands just under the edge of Himiko's shirt. They follow the waistband to Himiko's abdomen, becoming bolder, caressing the expanse of skin between breasts and bellybutton. Himiko licks her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. "It seems that way," she says.

Clayman takes Himiko's chin in her hand, makes sure Himiko looks her in the eye. Himiko can see the patient questioning there, but doesn't know how to put into words what she wants. Possibly because she's not sure what she wants, except in the very short-term. She leans in, teasing Clayman's lips with sweeping caresses while Clayman's fingers drift from her chin and down her throat to the zipper on her shirt.

Kisses follow the path of Clayman's fingers, tilting Himiko's chin back, dampening skin and heating the blood so near to the surface there. Clayman parts the now open neckline, tasting the skin under Himiko's collarbone just where softer flesh starts to swell. She's moving slowly, too slowly, and Himiko buries her hands in the shaggy hair, dragging Clayman's mouth back to hers.

This kiss...is new. They were testing each other before, Himiko can see that now. They seem to have both passed. They've stopped being polite, they are taking instead of asking. Himiko opens her mouth wider to see if that will get her the tiny bit closer she needs to be. Clayman lets her in, stroking at her tongue as it finds a taste nothing like the dust that fills the room. Clayman is fresh and sweet, like apples or grapes, warm like sunshine with all its subtly building heat.

She feels another zipper open, then fingers close over her bare hipbone. Her hips flex, and she moans in the back of her throat as she deliberately pushes into Clayman's hand. Clayman moves in a slow caress over her belly and when she is under Himiko's navel, Himiko cants her hips again. It is a bold invitation, and Himiko is a little shocked that she's made it, but as those soft, sure fingers slide further down her body, Himiko finds she doesn't regret it.

Her mouth has been abandoned, but Himiko needs all the breath she can get. Clayman is panting lightly into her ear, supporting her with a hand in the center of her back. Himiko wraps her arm around Clayman's waist, under her shirt, needing to touch as much as needing the support. She reaches up with her other hand and skims over the curve of Clayman's breast, catching her breath at the hardening of an unconfined nipple.

She lingers there, using her own touches as a guide for Clayman's hand. Not that Clayman needs much   
tutelage, her fingers know how to create desired shapes. Himiko tries not to move, to disturb the patterns of Clayman's touch, but she can't help it. She pushes forward and Clayman's fingers slide into frictionless warmth.

"Pull," Clayman purrs into her ear. It takes a moment for Himiko to realize her fingers have kept the nipple trapped, then she does as requested. Clayman hisses in a breath as she bites at Himiko's earlobe, as she breaches Himiko's body, as she completes the finishing touches with strong strokes of her thumb.

Himiko bends like soft clay, slick and pliant, completely under the care of Clayman's hands. She lifts her head from Clayman's shoulder where she had taken refuge as the last of her masks broke, as Clayman swept away the last of the dust with soothing hands and tender kisses. Lifts her head to seek one of those kisses, new yet again, affectionate and knowing.

"So...?" Clayman asks with slight teasing note in her voice.

"I...think the masks are all gone."

Clayman tastes her again, on the excuse of confirming the statement. Not that she needed an excuse. "I agree. For the moment at least. But if you ever feel the dust accumulating from the ones you have to wear, I'll be pleased to help you clean it off."

"And if I refuse to wear any more masks?" Himiko asks.

"I'd be pleased to see you at anytime." Clayman smiles shyly. It makes Himiko wish she had spent as much time looking as touching. "Maybe...you could model for me again?"

"In the pursuit of art?"

The smile gains a hint of wickedness. "Among other things," Clayman says, running her fingers over the tips of Himiko's hair.

A change in the breathing of the pair on the floor breaks the mood and, with a last soft dust of a kiss, breaks them apart. Clayman dons her disguise as Himiko straightens her clothes, and waits for the Get Backers to get back to themselves.

Himiko smiles, finally figuring out that it's easier to do that with a partner.


End file.
